I shoved the gloves at Chance and hustled toward the front of the gym. Before I reached the lobby, the arguing hit me. Pushing open the glass door, I saw the problem in the parking lot. If Jerome came with Kaya, he wasn’t with her. She stood in front of a burgundy Prius. A skeevy, scrawny dude blocked her path to the door. Another man, the size of a Mack truck, put his hands on her.
Kaya kicked and punched like a hellcat, but her blows meant nothing to the beefy bastard. He grinned like a demented fool.
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